


Devotion

by Ultradiplr



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Church Sex, Cock Worship, F/M, I would never write underage, No Age Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Priest Kink, Reader-Insert, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Size Difference, but reader is an adult don't worry, gender neutral reader, religious use of the word "Father" and "my child"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultradiplr/pseuds/Ultradiplr
Summary: You show your beloved priest, Father de Kuiper, your devotion to him in front of god.
Relationships: Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper/Reader
Kudos: 79





	Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr (ultradiplr.tumblr.com) in 2019. and yeah... I know... im sorry, im a slut for Priest Kink.

“Tell me, what do you seek here, child?”

Father Kuiper’s voice, ever steady in its deep monotone that warmed your skin and chilled your bones, asks above you as you kneel in prayer in front of him. Although you don’t have the guts to look at him you can imagine him, tall, broad, larger than life, dressed in his beautiful black cassock standing with his back toward the crucifixion hanging over him.

“Forgiveness.” 

You repeat like you’ve always had during his sermons, except this is not one of his sermons. There is no congregation to drown out your one measly voice, instead you are alone with him in the church and your one voice booms it’s rehearsed answer.

“Is that all, my child?” 

He sounds unimpressed, uninterested even and wants something more, deeper. You gulp at feeling his intense stare on you as he prowls around you. You know he is walking with a rod straight back, long graceful strides hidden by a long cassock, he is careful in his steps, calm, collected and in no rush. He would have his long arms held firmly at his back, hands clasped as he observes your with an ever calm face always on the precipice of a smile. you watched him for so long you know his every move, his every expression, the timing in his strides and the evenness of his breaths. And yet you are terrified to be so close to him, terrified to disappoint him.

“Acceptance.”

You try not to stutter and speak clearly, eyes glued firmly down at your entwined hands in front of your and the cold, hard floor. He stops behind you and you can faintly feel the heat from his legs at your back. your breathing quickened ever so slightly as you waited for him to answer, head already swimming from the thought of him standing so close.

“And what kind of people does God accept?”

He says in a soft tone, kind and caring but never less deep and haunting to you/ You jump a little when a warm hand gently appears on the top of your head but you quickly lean into its heat. 

“The devoted.” 

You say with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he begins to pet your head softly, fingers pulling slightly at the strands of your hair. You lean into his touch and your back hits his legs. Slowly he tilts your head up to face him and his fingers frame your face. your eyes open to look at him for the first time. He is looking down at you, an expression you have only ever caught from afar, hungry and angry. You felt your skin burn again but your body became ice, terrified and excited at the same time.

“And are you, my child?” 

His question is pointed and his calm voice is tipped with unusual severity, the unfamiliar change makes your stomach churn, like your gut was telling your something bad was going to happen. Yet you didn’t want to leave, didn’t want his warm hands to leave your face or sturdy presence to disappear.

“Always, Father.”

You speak in an intake of breath and holds it there, staring up at him and waiting. You were truthful, you ’ll always be devoted to the words of the Lord and in turn you’ll always be devoted to him. He was your Shepard, your leader, you ’ll always follow him, listen to him, be loyal to him.

“Show me.”

He says deeply, softly and calm but it sent a shiver down your spine with the implication. You let out your breath as he stroked your cheek with his thumb which you leaned into before kissing his palm, staring at him to gauge if you were correct. He sighed softly at that and you felt warmth spread through you with happiness.

You turned your body to face him still kneeling, watching his stone cold face, slightly hungry, slightly surprised, watch you in turn. His hands returned to your face, one stroking your head while the other cupped your cheek. His thumb traced your lips carefully, and without thinking, you opened your mouth slightly to take his finger. His breath hitched and you felt another wave of happiness that ended in your core. You sucked his finger in a way that made you blush harder, knowing what he was thinking, knowing what he wanted. Your heart was soaring, aroused at knowing that your dear priest wanted you so carnally. You know the way he looked at you during church, the way he sounded when you came to him for confessions, the way he watched as he gave you communion every Sunday.

He pulled his finger from your lips with a soft pop, his tongue slipping out of his own mouth to wet his dry lips, his eyes lidded with lust. His thumb grazed your lips again, smearing the little saliva on it on them.

“What do you want, child?”

He asks strained. Its permission he wants and are a little saddened he does not already know the answer. He always had your heart and soul in his care, and will always have. You tilt your face and kiss his palm again with a smile, looking up at him with loving eyes.

“You, Father.”

He huffed at your answer in a sort of laugh of disbelief. He uncups your face and brings it to his crotch, parting the cassock to reveal his black pants underneath and begins to fumble with his belt one handed, intent on keeping one hand on your head, perhaps needing to hold on to you to make sure this was real.

Seeing an opportunity of praise, you glide your hands up his legs to sit on his thighs. He looks at you, blushing even more as he moves his hand to let you do it yourself, both hands now on your head, moving excess hair out of your face.

You blush deeper as you feel his growing erection under the thick fabric of his pants and cant help but bite your lip when he finally gets free. Long but slim and sitting in a pool of salt and pepper pubes. You couldn’t help but see the resemblance of him in it, as silly as it was. You were confident in saying his was above average and a lot nicer than it could be for someone his age. You held it gently in one hand, gauging the shafts weight while the other gently massaged his balls eliciting a first true moan from him.

You looked up at him and smiled as he watched you with a piercing stare, 

“Show me your devotion, child.”

It was a breathless and strained demand, like he was trying to keep his composure still, and you happily obeyed, spitting in your hand and beginning to stroke him. He wasn’t thick and you could wrap your hand around him but he was long and you wondered if you ’d be able to swallow him, sure he’d hit the furthest reaches of your throat. For now you just focused on preparing him and stroking him, licking occasionally and responding to what you gauged he liked by the way he gripped your head or huffed a groan. 

Slowly you began to suck on him, just the tip at first as you let him adjust to the feeling, before slowly taking more and more of him in every other bob. Before long you had worked down to maybe and inch from his base, tears spilling from your eyes from the strain and lips puffy from the constant rubbing. 

He was no longer looking at you with his head thrown back in bliss but still audible in his praising groans and sighs. You knows he’s close from the tightness of his balls and shaft, the quickness of his breathing and the uncontrolled thrusting of his hips. You yourself are lost in lust looking up at him, his tall frame towering over you in holy black, backed by the high ceiling of the cathedral and their intricate paintings and carvings hidden by the night. He was worth every bit of worship as the things that surrounded him to you.

He hunched over suddenly and stilled, staring down at your again, breathing heavily and looking mad with his dishevel. He gripped your head tightly as his periwinkle eyes darkened to almost purple locked with your tear filled ones intensely.

“Swallow.”

It was a harsh, strained, and very uncharacteristic command as he pushed you the last inch to his base and came violently down your throat, scrunching his face up and bowing himself over you. You swallowed, not like you had any other option, and felt the warm, thick liquid dribble down your throat in a trail. When he pulled out a string of saliva followed and he looked utterly destroyed. 

As he was lost in the afterglow, you smiled and placed kisses all along his shaft, lost in the moment for your love for him, for your need to praise him and show him your care. The gentleness brought his attention back to your and he watched, humming pleased in seeing your devotion for him in your eyes.

“All of that for me?” 

He asks as he pets your face, relaxed and amused, giving you true, blissed out smile. He laughs at your eager nodding and bends down low enough to place a kiss on the top of your head. He puts himself away and helps your stand, wrapping an arm around your and kissing your head again.

“I think you have earned a special reward for your devotion.”

He says as he leads you toward the back of the church. The night was still young, and the good father was never one to leave a person of his congregation unsatisfied.


End file.
